


Cutting for Calm

by Blackrayvn



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, March Self Harm Month, Molestation, Other, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:41:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22964056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackrayvn/pseuds/Blackrayvn
Summary: MARCH IS SELF HARM AWARENESS MONTHMy own personal experience with Self Harm.
Relationships: self - Relationship
Kudos: 4





	Cutting for Calm

**Author's Note:**

> MARCH IS SELF HARM AWARENESS MONTH  
> THIS IS MY OWN PERSONAL STORY WITH DEALING  
> WITH SELF HARM.
> 
> CUTTING, BULEMIA 
> 
> DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE EASILY TRIGGERED

Once upon a time in a castle of my own design. Where the residents were of my own design, danced, and played enjoying the time in my castle in the sky. In my own head, and the enemy was banging on the front door, I wasn't aware of how they wanted in, how they would devastate my home and fill my castle with unrest. This is where I resided. Trapped hiding because of whom I wanted to love, deceived into being things I didn't want to be, and enacting what I was told I should be.

Pain is what resides within my bones, every photo shoot, pageant, every hard-won crown, a crown for the princess of my own castle. A castle that had new cracks each and every day. Slightly weaker, slightly less stable as the cracks of my castle started to crumble a little more each day with every reminder that I was too heavy, I needed to get all A's, I needed that honor roll, I needed to be the best at point. 

A brother that died, and an angels shadow I could never live up to, a grace was taken too soon, a family in shambles stuck with the disappointment, my role to play, one that would never and could never match the shadow left behind, that was me. How much more before I break, can you hear me if I scream, inside my head the walls are crumbling, can you feel the pain that pulses off me. Can you even hear me?

Remember your birthday when you were eight? You had such a great time with your uncle at Fantasia. You mean the uncle that had fantasized about my eight-year-old little body? I didn't and don't remember much of that, I remember the pain after, I remember the awkwardness, I remember him forevermore turning his head when I was forced to kiss his cheek. A funny joke as my lips brushed over his, innocently evil, innocently fulfilling, but not for me. I remember hearing a new person crying inside my castle, the first resident. Remember the modeling jobs you did so well, I'm glad you think so, being able to throw up everything I consumed helped so very much, but thank you for considering I did so well. I was a disaster, so good at hiding the screams, so very good at compartmentalizing everything my little self held in fright, fighting off the pounding on my castle doors.

Pain overwhelming in my head, I can hear the residents crying for a change something needs to give. The doors are bending, my castle is breaking, more than what I know, it's breaking someone help me. Something more than what I feel inside, I need to quiet my castle. Maybe outside pain will help, it can't be any worse than this…

Opening the doors, do I let another thing enter my castle, it'll be beautiful won't it, I am bringing this to me, I am allowing this inside, I control this, no one else can, open the gates let the floodwaters in. Search, where won't the marks of my war be seen? I don't want to die, I need a way to finally sigh, I need a way to break the screams, I need a way to live. A break from the screams a moment of control, but first let me rid myself of what I ate, I have to look pretty tomorrow. 

My ankle, I'm not allowed to do bathing suits because I am one hundred and fifteen pounds at five foot ten, and that's too heavy. Don't eat that, here have celery, its good for you, don't drink that, have water. Your thighs are too thick, your chest is too big, don't stand like that, don't model like that, you look like a slut. Do I, the way I look makes me a slut, how can I change the actual me? Slowly now, the voices take a collective breath as the blade gently slices through. A bubble of blood a momentary pain bringing me out of my head. I can breathe.

Wait, the screams are returning, I have a way to stop them, another cut nothing too critical, just enough. The quiet for a moment is better than not at all. Silence is golden; they say, silence is life.

You need a boyfriend, you need a few, just date, don't commit. I don't want that, its not me. Look at you, you're so cute together. Thank you for thinking so, oh look, more residents reside within my broken castle. More cuts to welcome their silence, welcome their arrival.

Where'd you get that black eye, a mistake, it was probably me but no even my broken mind knows it wasn't me. Eventually, we'll be free, won't we? I need to stop the screams; a new location it's not enough anymore. Something more delicate somewhere where the pain is ascertained by the lightest if touches.

The blade slides through the flesh of my upper leg, crimson tears from the residents of my broken castle, my slightly askew fairy tale. Finally, free of the pain dealer, someone took his life and gave me mine. Its a horrible comparison but true none the less.

A new trial a new tribulation, they left me here to find a way home. The dance they said, find your way. Electric Blue, lights and men, find your way, why is this my life, how did I get here? A models body with years of point ballet, the men gather to watch, to drool, to try a touch. Please don't touch me, I have to ask, asking for a human response, don't touch, no one will touch me ever again. I'm dead inside.

Cut. Cut. Cut. The only way to feel. Scars I hide so well with makeup, no one knows, I wish they had. I am too good at this lie, this coverup. A new day, a new set of problems, right? I'm older now, I just finished a doctorate in record time, I'm done. I made everyone else proud, but now that I am done, now that I am here, what am I supposed to do, I don't know how to live.

Friends of old, a night on the town, your straight and I'm not. Pretty sure not a bone in my body was ever straight, I love all, I love, need, desire love. It never mattered what you were or what you are, but I am so numb that I don't feel the blade much anymore. It's become a kneejerk reaction, something I do to remind myself of the comforting pain the blade once brought me. A shadowed memory of feeling, of all-encompassing warmth.

Darkness lovingly embraced the world as I felt the beating, the kicks, and punches by the three that decided I needed to learn a lesson in what I was supposed to want, to need, to desire. I'm so sorry I kissed my friend, on the cheek, was it that, was it that I said I loved my friend, was it that I said no to these men? Being discarded as waste in a ditch is where I woke to an officer frantically calling in for help. An angel in blue whispering words of safety, words begging, pleading words not to die. Crimson tears this time of my own rolled from my eyes, flowing freely from other parts of me that shouldn't be.

Finally, breathing my body, my mind is shutting down, let my castle take me. I'm tired, tired of the useless cuts, tired of living, tired of not living, controlled the slice of a blade. The feeling is worse with each cut but needing release.

Waking again two weeks later, my parents present looking at me. Oh no, the disappointment has once again disappointed. Why am I refused even heavens gates, maybe that's not where I will go, perhaps this is my hell, that I have garnered an accord with the devil himself, this is my hell.

No? Arms hugging me reassuring me, apologizing for not seeing how far gone I was, finally being allowed to say my truth, being allowed to live my peace, finally the start of finding contentment. A promise to leave the castle, leaving the blades of war behind me, the battle ahead didn't require the bladed edges of my razor. I only needed me, love, and a promise to not raise my weapon of war against myself again.

The war was hard-won over time. Every now and again, the call of the bladed edge won, but now it has been retired evermore. I am still looking for my happy ending with someone to love and treat as though they rule my lands, someday, right?

I cut for years, trying to stay in control because I felt so out of control of everything around me. I no longer cut, but the scars remain, they are a reminder of when I was the pain, and I survived and the pain I caused.

Please, if you think or you have seen someone cutting, get them help. It's a silent plea for help because no one can hear them scream from the castle of their head. Don't stand idly by and make it okay, one day, that blade can easily slice just a touch too deep.


End file.
